


Room 103

by meilleur



Series: Clandestinity [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous Gender Penn, How hard is it to write sex with a character who is specified as having no gender?, I think it went well, Other, POV First Person, Post-Apocalypse, Soft sex, Strangers to Lovers, very
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meilleur/pseuds/meilleur
Summary: It was love, I realised.A telling of the events in the hotel.Penn (narrator) is not given a gender. I leave that up to you.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Undisclosed, R/Penn
Series: Clandestinity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988836





	Room 103

**Author's Note:**

> I was bullied into writing this.
> 
> (No, not really.)

R ran his hands down my sides, leaving a trail of fire under my skin. My hands shook as I reached up around his neck, curling my fingers in his hair. It wasn’t as if I was inexperienced, because I wasn’t. There comes a time when you realise that waiting is pointless; each day becomes one step closer to inevitability — one step closer to death. Thus, a lack of reservation when it comes to more explicit activities. No one’s picky anymore, but some still carry a sense of standard: no mouth-to-mouth kissing, no penetration, no undressing.

What did R think about it all? He has no shame in kissing me, and is quick to shed us both of our layers.

“You think too much,” I hear him mumble into my mouth. I hadn’t realised I had stopped moving.

“There’s a lot to think about.” I counter, a playful edge to my voice.

“Not tonight.” He resumes his kissing, trailing up and down my face, then getting lower. He nips at my jawline, at my neck.

I exhale and attempt to relax. It’s not difficult; R knows what he’s doing and how to do it effectively. He rids me of my coat, slips my short sleeve over my head, and in turn I unbutton his flanel. My hands don’t shake as much, a hazy pleasure building that leaves me lax and happy. He allows me to slip the garment off his shoulders, uncovering an expanse of marred skin not unlike my own. Faded scars, bullet wounds, white lines of past cuts. A rather nasty bruise is seen on his lower abdomen, but none of us pay it any mind. Bruises tend to lose their edge after years of receiving them.

R’s breath fans over my own chest, and I let out a shiver as it tickles my nerves. We lock eyes and he lets out a breathy exhale that was supposed to be a laugh. He resumes kissing, sucking red spots on my collarbone, my left rib, the area just above my pantline. I grip his hair as he gives a playful nip, deft fingers working on the zipper. I raise my hips slightly, and he pulls down my pants until they rest around mid-thigh. The bed creaks as he pushes himself back up towards my face, diving in for another kiss while he works my groin.

After that things start to pick up. I can’t focus anymore, hands running everywhere he’d let me touch, leaning into every pleasure point and all the while I feel that particular heat build. I try to work him the same way — I don’t want to take and not give in return — and am pleasantly surprised when he lets me, easing up on my own pleasure to give me room to think. My mind clears enough to tug R out of his pants, hearing him let out a groan above me just as thunder rumbles somewhere outside. I see his scrunched up face in the flashes of lightning that come through the window.

I allow him to return back to me, and attempt to keep focus of myself. A finger presses against me, and I let out a shocked gasp. He retracts, putting a delicate hand on my knee in question. Words fail me, but I’m able to grab his hand and squeeze, breathing out a sigh that sounds somewhat like a yes. He kisses my inner thigh, and the finger returns. It’s a slow process, and all the while I feel that pressure grow until it becomes too much. I tug on his hair, muttering a “hurry up” that makes him laugh.

This is something I hadn’t done before. In my own experiences, we’d get to the point of undress and then finish there. It was a decision I had yet to come to, but with R there I hardly had to think. He made me feel comfortable, safe in a way that went outside of combat. It was a feeling that I had no idea existed until R came along. It didn’t happen automatically — we were mere acquaintances at the beginning — but with every problem faced and overcome, with every shared moment of rare bliss, it grew.

It reached its peak at some point when we were finally connected. It wasn’t lust that so many before had described this moment as. It was another feeling more intense, more intimate, more complex. It was love, I realised.

We came down from our high together. His sweaty bangs tickled my forehead and our breaths intermingled. He looked up at me, I looked down at him. We smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a romantic, unfortunately.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
